Page 146 of Of Rime and Ruin
I cock my head, studying the beast from a new angle. There’s a slight curve to its waist I didn’t notice before. A feminine flare to the shape of its cheeks and mouth. Long, white eyelashes. The jagged pull of the scar on its eyelid where I marred her that day.
“She’s been stuck in this form for more than a decade,” Nahla says. “After a while, she lost herself and became fully animal. She said she’s been trying to draw attention, leaving gifts at the castle to entice someone to come after her.” Nahla turns to look at me, her eyebrows knitting. “Does this mean anything to you?”
“Gifts,” I murmur.
All the killings were hers. The corpses appeared on my shore with the same pattern of scars, never a missing limb. Each one laid out like a present on Yuletide. Like she wanted them to be found. Why else wouldn’t she eat them?
I close my eyes against the truth as it hits me. The curse of the clawbeast is generational. I have it. My mother has it. I should have guessed this could happen. I should have known better, should have studied harder, worked harder to solve the mystery. If I had realized it sooner, many of my people could be alive.
I could have rescued her. She needed me, and I didn’t save her.
Twelve years.
Trapped in her animal mind, stripped of her memories. She was trying to reach me in the only way she knew how. And I, too full of self-loathing to realize, took the blame.
I’ve been so focused on destroying myself, consumed with my hatred and rage, to realize the truth. And Lucas fucking sat there and watched.
He must have known. How could he not? He’s been the royal healer longer than I’ve been alive.
Nausea rolls through me, washing away all desire to fight.
I’ve been deceived.
The beast is watching me. Her head is bowed, her eyes sparkling beneath thick lashes. Waiting to see what I’ll do.
It’s the same way my mother used to look at me when I was up to no good. The same mix of pride and irritation, the same witty glint. A sly curl to her mouth.
Fuck.
“I thought I killed you,” I whisper.
My mother snorts, and bubbles stream from her nose. Nahla laughs. She leans into her mental connection, scrunching her nose with humor.
I let my shoulders drop. My muscles pinch along my neck as tension uncoils and drains. She’s laughing.
She’s okay.
“She said, ‘Fat chance,’” Nahla says. “I like her.”
“Yeah.” My mouth tugs in an answering smile. “Me too.” Slowly, I reach out to her. She lifts her hand, and I tentatively trace the curve of her claw. It’s smooth. Sharp. She blinks, eyes crinkling at the corners.
A low moan emanates from the back of the cave, where a dark shape curls against the floor. In the chaos, I’d forgotten about Perrin.
How could I have forgotten? My stomach twists with fresh guilt.
He sits up, wobbling upright. With groggy eyes, he squints into the light of the glowmites. “Shit, did we win?”
The lucky guppy lives.
He rubs the top of his head, and fresh blood trickles into the water. When he spots my mother, his face pales.
“You’re bleeding!” Nahla darts to his side, frantic. “Any pain? Where does it hurt?”
“There’s a clawbeast behind you,” he whispers.
“She’s fine. I’ll tell you about it later.” Her hands flutter as she assesses the damage, careful not to jostle him. “Where does it hurt? What’s your name?”
“Just my head, Nahla.”
